Dreamscape
by Miss Charlie
Summary: What would you do to prove to someone your love? Run into certain death? Do exactly as they say without fear? Face demons and angels and quirky wizards? And then, what if some where along the way, you found that you didn't love them like you thought?
1. Prologue

The streets are dirty. The air; unclean. You hardly have to step out your front door to see people living in poverty. And I guess that makes you lucky to have a front door. And generally, if you have a door, you probably have windows, which would be easy to watch the homeless from, if you could see out them, that is. Everything is filthy, even the water to clean things is dirty.

But I guess it's for a good cause. With the cars and trains now available, we traded cleanliness for mobility. It's not exactly right, and it's definitely not fair, but for every action there is a reaction, and we have to live with our choices.

Jobs are as hard to find as people are not. I am one of the lucky ones. I get paid just enough to do what I do to manage a few dingy dresses and a small apartment. A decent enough life considering what I have around me. It's a good business, magic, especially if you're good. Of course, I'm a terrible liar, and it's magic how bad I am at illusions. So I'm an assistant. I'm the one who brings out all the supplies needed for the act, and I stand there and look pretty, so even if the guys in the audience don't believe in the tricks they might come back just to look at a girl in skimpy clothing anyway, thus drawing in more money. Yes, I know, it's not the most respectful job, but in this new world? It really doesn't matter.

We usually find our people that get sawed in half, have swords stabbed through them, appear to float, and disappear on the streets. The poor. We taunt them with money, then, once they've bitten, we take them to do a show. They usually live through the swords, and tricks, but the real magic happens when they disappear. When Mr. Hall ushers them into the box, they don't come back. He claims that he doesn't trust them with the secrets of his magic, and I have no choice but to believe him, because where else would they go? I don't even know how he does his stuff, I just watch and provide the equipment and smile. I've never questioned anything. If I'm being paid well, it's none of my concern. Though, I have wondered where all those people have gone, it's not my place.

And yet, I stand here, and it sounds as if all my secret little questions are about to be answered.

He tells me that he needs to keep doing his shows.

I nod, and say yes, it would be bad if he stopped, none of us would make any money.

He tells me that the police are starting to take an interest in the amount of people disappearing off the streets. Not an official interest, but they are looking into it.

I agree, then ask him what he thinks we should do.

He sighs and looks down at his shoes, then he tell me that he needs me to be his volunteer.

I don't say anything. I'm not sure I could if I tried.

We both know what this means, and he doesn't seem too keen on the idea.

What about the docks? I say. The police don't do anything with all the crime that happens there.

He shakes his head, They're watching me, he says, They suspect me.

I am silent. I don't know what it'll be like when he makes me disappear, and I don't want to find out.

I need this Ella, he says softly, I need you to do this for me.

I nod slowly, I'll do it for him. And haven't I always been curious anyway? I'll try it, maybe it'll be better.


	2. Green Quilt

Slowly, I looked around, wondering were I was. I seemed to be in a large, very large, field of sorts. Occasionally, there was a scraggly old tree poked up out of the grass, and the grass was frequently covered by blankets of purplish flowers. The sun was in the process of setting, giving everything an eerie, orange, glow to it. The whole scene had a surreal feel to it, like it wasn't real or something.

As I examined the world around me, I didn't know what to feel, my head was foggy, and I couldn't quite remember why I was here, or where I'd come from. I thought I should be scared of this new place, and want to go back to where I was, but it all seemed so pleasant, so I couldn't easily be afraid. In a sort of a dreamlike trance, I started idly moving through the grass, wandering. As I disturbed the naturalness of it all, little fearful butterflies would pop up and quickly flit away, disappearing back into the cushiony green quilt. They were fast, the butterflies, I never got to get a good look at them before they were gone again. All I knew about them was that they were a mint green, and had an ethereal glow to them.

After a while of slowly moving across the field, I noticed that the little butterflies seemed to be a little less wary of me, they'd come just within my reach, then quickly dance away, they also were a bit more airborne than before. For the most part, I ignored them, only glancing at them when they got too close. There was something off about them, the way they were graceful, but almost in a dangerous sort of way. And there was something… not biological about them.

I figured about two hours must have passed since I'd started walking, when I realized that the sun was still in the exact same place in the sky as when I'd begun. It had not rose nor sunk any further. It was a curious thing, and I didn't know what to make of it, and I thought I should be afraid of it, but I wasn't sure.

Suddenly, one of the butterflies flew up in my face, staring me right in the eyes, the breeze from it's wings poofing against my cheeks. Seeing it so close, I noticed that my suspicions were correct, the butterfly was not a butterfly at all. It was created of tiny metal gears and pieces, all working quickly to create the effect of a real, living, breathing, creature. Even the antennas were made of thin, long, bouncy springs. Thoroughly creeped out, I swatted at it, sending it spinning away. Satisfied that it wasn't coming back, I began walking again. But with the now-threatening artificial bugs flying around me, I was unnerved. I grabbed fistfuls of my skirt and pulled it up slightly, attempting to run in my heeled boots and dress, unsurprisingly, it was extremely difficult. Thankfully, though, my ebbing sanity came back when I saw mountains rising in the distance. Mountains weren't much to be thankful for, but at least they were better than miles and miles of flowers and grass and trees and creepy butterfly-things.

I slowed when the grass turned to dusty earth, looking up at the foreboding mountains. I sighed. Ah the things we do for the ones we love. I set my jaw and mentally prepared myself, then I marched onward, happy to see that the butterflies weren't following me.


	3. Stray String

"Tell about the one with the little boy!" Demanded a shrill-voice, blond-haired, blue-eyed boy, delight sparking in his small eyes.

The old story-teller smiled fondly, creases forming on his aged face, "Sure." His voice was never tiring, even though it too was cracked with age. "There once was a boy who lived with his mum and dad. One day, he was kidnapped. His capturers whacked him over the head and he fell unconscious." There was so much intensity and earnestness in his voice that it was hard to believe this was only a fairytale and hadn't actually happened to him, "When he woke, he was in a beautiful place, with flowers and trees and perfect grass and a never-ending sunset. He was enchanted. He thought it was such a wonderful place, that he sat down right there in the grass and just watched. After while, little electronic butterflies appeared, dancing around him, making him want to leave even less. So he just sat. Sat and watched. And, eventually, he began to forget. He forgot everything, his name, his life, his home, everything. Until all he knew was of the butterflies, the sky, the grass, and the flowers.

"After so long of nothing, he slowly began to change. He began to turn a brilliant green. His form began to change; he became rooted in the ground. Then, when the next child came along, all there was to remember the boy by was a tree. A still, innocent tree, knowing nothing but of how to survive and his surroundings."

The children seated around the old man applauded, and yelled for more, but he shook his head, "No, I need to be on my way." He repeated, the creased smile crackling his face, making his dull old eyes sparkle.

I stood up and skirted around the edges of the kids, walking quickly to catch him before he ran off. Just as I reached the old man, a young boy, probably about my age, caught him, "Your stories change every time you tell them. Don't you worry they'll notice?" There was a teasing laugh mixed in with his accent. They all seemed to have English accents, it was just like London for me; I stuck out like a sore thumb. I didn't want to butt into their conversation so I hung back, arms behind my back, swaying on the balls of my feet.

The boy seemed to notice me, "Who's she?"

The elderly man turned to me, kind face warm and inviting, like a grandfather's embrace, "I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

The boy made a noise that sounded like a snort, then walked off down the street, disappearing into one of the many storefronts.

I stared after him, a look of disgust on my face, "The nerve." I muttered under my breath.

"Oh, don't mind him. He's just crabby." I turned to look back at the old man, "Hello, my name is Otis, and who is this beautiful little flower?" He gently took my hand, raising the back of it to his lips.

I blushed, "It's Ella."

"Ella? A name to match the sight." He grinned at me, releasing my hand, "Now what do I owe the visit?" He leaned against the building we stood in front of, which, through the dusty old window panes, I could guess was a library.

"I was listening to your, ah, storytelling session."

"Ah, yes, I noticed you sitting so shyly in the back, you should practice being more outgoing, people won't notice you otherwise." He was clever and charming. Had I been about forty years older, I might have taken an interest.

"Yes, well, I've never been good at such things. But I came to ask you about the last one you told." I felt a bit awkward with my back facing the street, but I had no place to move to, so I just stood there, playing with a stray string on my dress. "Say such a place actually existed." I addressed it as a hypothetical thing because he seemed to believe that it was.

"I would, because it does, just a few miles east of the mountains, it's there. It's real." His grin broadened.

I was taken aback, "But you said…"

"If I were to tell all the children of this town that there was such a place that actually existed, they'd try to go there to see, and probably be killed along the way. Traveling is dangerous here, you should know that."

"In that case… I came from there. I was in London, and I was working for a magician, and he used his magic to make me "disappear" and I woke up in the field. I didn't stay though, because I saw the butterflies, and I've never been fond of bugs, so I got a little scared and left."

He looked surprised, "You walked here, by yourself? Through the mountains and all?"

"Yeah, I just got here yesterday, it wasn't too bad of a walk, but my shoes didn't do much for me." I pulled up my dress just enough to show him the worn down heels on my boots, I was very careful to stay modest and not show any skin.

"You must be a fairly intimidating force then, to have not one disturbance."

I tilted my head, "Maybe it was the dress." I laughed.

He chuckled, "Or maybe you looked like a witch."

My smile and laughter slowly faded, until I was serious again, "But I approached you to ask a question. How do I get back?"

He smiled almost pityingly, "You don't. To teleport you back would need a very powerful wizard, and one that knew the spell at that."

I chewed my lower lip, "You don't understand, I _need_ to get back. Where can I find a wizard that could help me? I really really need this."

He looked me up and down, sighing, "You might be able to find one further west, across the desert. But even for that you'd need a wizard to take you, it's far too dangerous to count on making it alone again."

"Who could I take?" I glanced over my shoulder at a loud rumble in the distance, and saw large, black clouds covering the already dark sky.

"Ask around, the people here are fairly approachable, and I'm sure there's someone willing to escort you." He looked sheepish, "I'd offer to take you, but I'm not exactly fit to do so."

"No, that's fine, I'll find someone." I looked around at the few people milling around on the streets, "Thank you for your help."

He nodded, "Sure. I'll be here if you need anything else. If you find a guide who doesn't happen to have maps on him, you can always come here and I'll lend you some."

"You've been a huge help, thanks for everything." I smiled at him, genuinely, "Goodbye." I started off down the street.

"Good luck!" He called after me.


	4. Fairly Barren

After trying several dusty old shops, asking around, and receiving quite a few, "no, but why don't you try…"s I finally gave up and headed to the place that resembled a hotel. Fat, ugly raindrops were starting to pock the dust anyway.

Pushing open the grimy glass door, an icky smell hit my face; one of sweat, filth, and beer. Blinking rapidly, and trying to adjust, I stepped in, hoping not to seem offending, though it was difficult.

"We're full up." Came a rough voice from somewhere in another room.

The entry hall was respectable enough, though it was as dirty as outside. There weren't homeless people slouching around the corners as the smell might suggest. Actually, that was a lie; there was one, rather large, man in tattered clothes sleeping in a corner, a bottle of whiskey in his meaty fist.

I looked away, thoroughly disgusted. "I guess I hadn't planned on staying anyway."

The voice appeared out of an office-type room situated in the far wall. It was the boy from the library, looking somewhat surprised at the voice of a woman. "You again?"

"I could say the same for you." I put my hands on my hips and surveyed the room around me, now that I'd decided that I didn't like him much anyway, I decided it'd be alright if I criticized his cleaning skills. "How do you expect to draw in business with this appearance?"

He sighed, leaning against the wall next to his office door, "I don't need to. I'm practically running a charity here anyway." He nodded to the guy in the corner.

I didn't glance at the grimy man again, I didn't want to. "Well, I suppose I'll pay to stay the night. It's going to storm and I need a place, how much?"

"I'm not taking money from a lady."

"What's that supposed to mean? Is my-"

"No. That's not what I meant." He cut me off. "I'm giving these guys free rooms, why should I take money from you?" He rolled his eyes, inching a foot up on the wall behind him, so if the wall were to get up and leave, he would fall flat on his behind. He stared up at the place where the ceiling met the wall, not meeting my eyes.

"How do you make any money?" I asked, frowning, staring him down even though he wouldn't look at me.

"What do I need that for? I can make my own food, and it's not like I need to pay anyone rent or anything. There's no government here. So as long as I don't want anything, I don't need money." He looked tired, exhausted, really, and he couldn't have been older than twenty.

I stared at him a moment, "How can you grow anything out there? The ground is so… Dead."

He sighed again, "You really don't know anything, do you? Magic? Ever heard of it? It's kind of a big thing around here."

I hissed at his biting sarcasm, "Right, sorry, I didn't know there was a handbook I was suppose to read upon entering this place."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so… prickly." His tone was that tired, beat down again, "I'm just not used to being around… women." He was hesitant, as if afraid to offend me.

I softened, "Well… You should try harder then."

He chuckled, meeting my eyes for the first time, "You wanted a room, right?"

I nodded, "If you can spare one."

He twisted his mouth to the side, and closed his eyes briefly, "Honestly, the ones that I haven't rented out yet, are probably inhabited by bums, it's a circus up there; you probably don't want to even look."

The image of the bottom of society tugging on the hem of my dress, trying to get a peek underneath sent a shudder through me. "I'll take your word for it." There was an uncomfortable beat, then, "Do you know where I might find a place to spend the night? Where I won't be harassed?"

He did his mouth twist again, this time keeping eye contact, "Maybe you could get pity from someone, and they'd take you in, but…" He glanced over my shoulder, "The wind's blowing pretty hard; you might even not make it across the street."

We fell silent, listening to the pounding of the wind and rain against the roof, which sounded really far away but brutal nonetheless.

After a moment, he sighed, "I… I guess you could… Sleep in my room… For tonight…" He spoke quietly, "I'll move someplace upstairs."

"No, no, I can't ask that of you." I said quickly, blushing slightly.

"I'm not sending you outside, and you can't go upstairs, so unless you plan on sleeping with him," He gestured to the sleeping man again, "You don't have much choice." He seemed frustrated.

I glanced at the doorway next to him, advancing slowly, "Is it… clean?"

He sighed, yet again, "Yes, of course it's clean, miss picky."

I almost retaliated at that, but I held my tongue, deciding it was best that I didn't insult the man that was saving me. "My apologies. And gratitude. Thank you very much." I forced a slight smile.

He returned it with as much difficulty, "I'll just collect a few of my things and be right out." Then, he disappeared into his room.

I stood there, awkwardly, glad there was no one to see me just standing there, appearing to appreciate the room around me.

After a bit, he came back, a bag thrown over his shoulder, "Alright, I'm out. The washroom is right over there," He pointed to a door set into the wall to the right of the bedroom door. "Make yourself at home, I'll be down and have breakfast fixed for you around eight."

"Eight?" I exclaimed, somewhat shocked.

He gave me a look.

"Right, eight, I'll remember that." I looked sheepish, "Thank you." I waited for him to move away from the door before I went to it, for some reason I didn't want to get close to him.

"G'night." He murmured, climbing the stairs.

"Goodnight." I returned, cautiously pushing open the door, and peering around inside.

The room was fairly barren, only a bed and a table next to it, and a mirror on the wall. The lack of personal items was probably due to the fact that he'd cleaned it out before leaving. There was also a closet, but I didn't care to look into it.

I had nothing with me, so the most I could do was slip out of my wrecked boots, and sleep in my dress, it was fairly cold anyway, and I wasn't too keen to cuddle up in some man's blankets.

With the door locked, and a pillow beneath my head, I felt safe enough, and I slipped into sleep easily.


	5. German Maybe

I woke to a loud pounding on my door. My response was to roll over and groan. "Lemme sleep a while longer…" I slurred, burying my face into my pillow.

"Come on! I need to get into my room!" Came the muffled voice from outside.

I opened my eyes, staring at the fabric that made up the pillow. Still tired, and not in the mood to be awake, I sat myself up, slipped my feet into my shoes, and opened the door, not really caring if I was decent, "Good morning to you too. Can't a lady get some privacy?"

He bolted past me, going straight to the closet and instantly rummaging around, flinging things out over his shoulder.

"Good morning Ella, it's nice to see you this morning, you look lovely." I grumbled to myself, voice dripping with sarcasm and a bad imitation of his accent. Still mumbling and growling, I smoothed out the front of my dress. "I'll be in the wash room if you need me." I marched out of the room and headed for the small door next room over.

After freshening up, and determining that my sleep hadn't done any major damage to how I looked, I went back to the room to find him sitting on the floor, a large, dusty, old book in his lap, reading furiously. "You know," I said, making conversation just to distract him, and annoy him for waking me up, "I don't even know your name."

"Luc." He said absently, now mouthing the words he was reading.

"Luc…" I said, trying it out, "French?"

"I don't know, I'm not from your world, remember?"

"You have an English accent, though… Born in France, raised in England?"

He looked up at me, glaring slightly, "What did I just say?"

I shook my head, "No, I know, I'm just trying it out."

He gave me a 'What the heck?' kind of look, then went back to his book.

I moved to stand behind him, watching over his shoulder. The book was written in another language, German maybe? "What is that?" I asked, hoping to irritate him further.

"A book." He muttered, still mouthing the words.

"I see that. What's it about? Romance? Mystery?"

"Magic."

"Magic." I repeated, bored. "What language is that?"

"I don't know what you would call it."

"Made up?"

"Ella!" He looked up at me, angry, "Can you please find something to amuse yourself with other than me?"

I was taken aback, "Fine, sheesh, you didn't have to get snappy about it…" I looked at the pile of stuff that he'd thrown out of the closet in search of his beloved book. There were a few things that look like they'd carried over from his childhood, a few books, in various languages, and a faded photograph. Carefully, I picked up the photograph. Two happy, laughing faces stared back at me. It was normal for people to be serious in formal photography, but even though it looked as if they'd paid a lot of money to have this taken, they were smiling and laughing. A man with wild, dark hair, perfect teeth, and lovely, charming, crinkly eyes, had his arm wrapped around a light haired, gorgeous woman, who's every aspect was cheerful. They looked so content with their lives, that it warmed my heart.

I bent down, carefully setting the photograph on the bed, searching for more. It didn't take long to discover one book had about ten or so tucked into the front cover. I kneeled down, picking up the first one. The same couple, a different place; this time they appeared to be enjoying a picnic. The woman's curls and dress was caught in mid-wind behind her, and the man was kissing her cheek. In this photo, it was hard to detect, you could see the slight bulge of pregnancy.

Setting that one aside, I picked up the next. The two were still in the same field, but the man was carrying the woman in his arms. She held onto him for dear life, more afraid of being dropped than indecency, because her dress had been kicked up in the wind. Blushing, I quickly set that one down.

The rest were similar, of this happy couple, gradually progressing until the woman was very pregnant. The last one was a serious photo again, only, in this one, the woman held a small baby boy, who was crying. They looked even happier than in the first photograph.

Realizing I was being nosey, I quickly ordered the pictures back into chronological order, and put them back in the book, closing it. As I did so, I inevitably saw the cover, and noted that it was a copy of _Romeo and Juliet_. Blinking slowly, I retrieved the first photograph. I studied it a moment, then turned it towards Luc, "These are your parents." It was more of an observation than a question; an observation looking for conformation.

He looked up sharply, as if started to hear my voice. Seeing the book in my lap, and the picture in my hand, he tilted his head. Upon closer inspection, and seeing what it was, he snatched them from me, stuffing the photo back into the book and tossing the book back into his closet. "Don't you have any manners?" He snapped, "It's quite rude to snoop through people's things." He went back to his book; back to ignoring me.

My throat tightened from being scolded, but I couldn't stifle my pride long enough to apologize. Standing quickly, I walked out, standing in the foyer. I stood with my arms crossed, wondering whether I was going to cry, or not. It was really ridiculous to be upset because he'd been angry with me, it didn't even make any sense. But for some reason I felt the need to please him.

Crushing my dignity and pride, I went back into the room. "I'm sorry I went through your book without your permission." I held my head high, hoping I wouldn't start crying.

"Okay." He didn't even look up from his book.

I stared at him a moment longer, then, "Okay? Just okay? I just apologized to you, and all you have to say is okay?"

He glanced up, "What do you want from me?"

I didn't know the answer to that, so I sat down on the bed.

"That's what I thought." He mumbled.

"Excuse me?" I was surprised at his rudeness.

He looked at me, "Huh? Oh, no, I meant about the book." He nodded at the huge thing he was reading. He snapped it shut and stood, "I'll be right back." He marched out of the room, almost as if he had a mission to go on.

I sat there, staring after him. _What have I gotten myself into this time? Some weird kid bossing me around and acting like he owns the place… Well, he does… Magic? Who am I kidding. There's no such thing as real magic. This is one of Mr. Hall's illusions, I'll wake up any minute. I've really been letting my imagination get the best of me. Goodness, I can't believe I actually believed this for even a moment. It's all just a dream, like in _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. _I'm just dreaming, that's it. I don't even know why I entertained the idea of a magical world._

I began giggling at the idea of a _magical world. _

When Luc came back, book under his arm, he eyed me as though I might blow up.

My giggling escalated into laughter, loud and obnoxious as ever.

He continued to eye me as a dangerous object, "Why are you laughing?"

Between spasms of laughter and breathing, I managed to spit out, "You're not real."

He arched an eyebrow, still watching me.

My laughter died down a bit, and I stood, still chuckling, "You're just in my imagination. I can do anything I want. I bet I could even fly if I wasn't so scared of heights." I giggled again, advancing on him, forcing him to back up, "I can do anything I want without consequence, because you're not really here! It's all in my head!"

He was looking more and more alarmed as he found he couldn't back up any further into the wall. "Ella…?"

"See? You're just a ghost, I'll prove it." I went to set my hand on his shoulder, expecting it to go right through, and surprised to find it quite solid. I recoiled, examining my hand, "Wow, this is a pretty real dream." I sniffed my hand. "Huh."

"Aren't you supposed to be able to pinch yourself in a dream and not feel anything?" He offered, still looking as if he knew a spell to make himself melt into the wall and get away from me.

I nodded, "Yes." I pinched my arm, hard, between my thumb and forefinger. Then I stared in wonder as the pain tingled around inside. There was a moment of silence, then I looked up at him again, "It's just an old wife's tale, it's not really true." I snapped, refusing reality and substituting my own. "You watch, I'll wake up and I'll be in that stupid box again, and then I'll come out onto the stage and everyone will be astonished."

He was still giving me that look of alarm and confusion, "Ella… You're not dreaming. This is real." He his free hand on my arm.

I backed away, pulling my arm free, and sitting on the bed. "No it's not. It's like in that children's book, _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz._"

He gave me that 'What the heck?' look again, "Then click your heels together and disappear."

I laughed, "You're silly, I don't have the ruby slippers."

"Are you intoxicated?"

"No… At least, I don't think so… Hey! I'm a lady! I don't drink!"

He moved back to the closet, putting his pile of junk back where it belonged, and lastly, setting the dusty old book on top. Then he quickly closed the door so none of it fell out. Leaning against the door, he observed me carefully again, "Ella, this is real. It's not some stupid fairy tale. You're really here, I'm really here, it's not a dream."

I glared at him for smashing my substituted reality, "But magic doesn't really exist."

"You don't understand. It doesn't exist in your world, but here? Yes it does."

I shook my head. "Fine, I'll play along, whatever." I crossed my arms.

He continued to stare at me for a while, neither of us moving. Then after a while, he spoke, "So what's next for you? Are you going to spend the rest of the day sitting on my bed?"

"I need to go across the desert." I mumbled.

He looked shocked, "Not alone! You can't! You'll be killed!"

"Of course not alone. I need a guide, but so far, no one's wanted to help me, seems people are afraid."

He looked reluctant again.

Picking up on the hint, my mood brightened slightly, "Could you take me?"

He gave me a look of resign and hesitation.


	6. Completely Indecent

"Hand me that… that."

"This?" I asked, holding up a thing that looked like a tub of Play-Doh.

"Yeah, thanks." He took it, cramming in deep into a bag that he was hunched over in the middle of the floor.

"Play-Doh?"

He nodded, shuffled over to the closet where he rummaged around. Again.

I looked around at the things sprawled out across the bed. "To be organized and to find things easier." He'd said. It didn't look any easier than before. There were still yoyos hanging out of books.

"What do you need Play-Doh for?" I tilted my head, trying to read the spine of a book a little ways away, and finding it to be in a different language, "I can't possibly see how it could be of any use of anything."

"Stress." He grabbed the book I was looking at and tossed it into the bag as well.

"Stress?"

"That's what I said, didn't I?"

"Hm." I saw the _Romeo and Juliet _from earlier sitting just within arms reach, but I didn't dare pick it up again. I definitely didn't want to get my head bit off again. "How big is that bag, anyway?" I asked, leaning over the edge of the bed to look inside, and seeing nothing.

"Big enough."

"How is that possible? I can't even see the bottom." I leaned over further, almost upsetting my balance.

"It's enchanted, honey bunch."

I raised an eyebrow, "'Honey bunch'? I didn't know we were on a pet-names-basis."

"Then stop hounding me." He glanced up at me, sizing me up. "You're going to need new clothes, there's no way you can cross the desert like that."

"I didn't see any seamstresses in town, I didn't even see any dresses."

"You probably won't be wearing dresses any more. They're kind of out of fashion here, and they definitely aren't practical."

My eyes widened, "Well what am I supposed to wear? Trousers?"

"Yep. Have a problem with that?"

"Well… Well it's completely indecent! So yes, I do!" I felt as if my eyes would fall out of my face if they got any wider.

"You'll just have to get over that. I suppose you could wear skirts, but they aren't practical or very modest." He yanked some clothes out of the closet, dropping them into the bottomless bag.

I couldn't even fathom the idea of not wearing a dress, "I can't dress like… Like a man! That's unheard of!"

"Not here. Women wear pants all the time. Haven't your eyes been open?"

"I haven't seen any women!"

"Well, I guess they aren't exactly offering themselves to the streets, they try to stay inside more often than not since it's so dangerous."

This was all even more unbelievable than the idea of magic and this alternate world. "I- I just- I don't think I can do this."

He looked up at me with that tired look of his, "Then why am I packing?"

I sighed, "Fine, fine. Where can I get these… These garments?"

"In town. Get going, I'd like to get out of here right after mid day so it's easy going until night."

I stood, unsure. "Can't you come with me? Please?"

"I have to prepare the-" He saw my pitiful, clueless look and sighed, "Alright. Fine, fine. We'll go after I finish packing this bag." He looked at the mess on the bed, then picked up the _Romeo and Juliet _and tossed that into the bag as well.

Secretly, inside, I knew he would take that with. Something told me that he wouldn't go on any life-threatening trip without his mother. I smiled to myself.

But he caught me, "What're you grinning about? We'll lose an hour shopping for your clothes, which means an hour more we have to travel into the night which means an hour lost of sleep."

My smile faded, "Geez, so grouchy." I sat back down on the bed when he resumed throwing things into his endless bag.

"Yeah, well, if it were up to me, I wouldn't be crossing the desert."

I cocked my head to the side, "Who's it up to?"

"You. I can't let you just go by yourself, so, in the end, it's your choice. I won't send you to your death and you won't stay put, so what am I supposed to do?"

"Oh." I said simply. "Well I'm sorry I'm inconveniencing you, then."

He shook his head roughly, cramming more books in, "You're not. Crossing the desert just isn't one of my favourite things. Dying isn't either."

"How many books do you need?" I asked, changing the subject abruptly.

"I just said I don't like dying. If I don't have what I need to do what I need to do, we'll die. I don't want to die. Make the connection?" He zipped the bag shut, then stood, slinging it over his shoulder, "Come on, let's get you some clothes, I need to tell my dad where I'm going anyway." He led the way out.

It didn't take us too long to find what I needed, seeing as I was resigned to my fate of wearing men's clothing, and I wasn't being too picky. We were back at the hotel in a half an hour at most.

"You go change, we can bring your dress with if you'd like, but you shouldn't wear it. I'll pack the food." He mumbled, sour that his prediction had been slightly off.

I took my things and marched off to the washroom.

When I was finished, I went back to the room to survey myself in the room.

"So, how is it?" Luc asked, turning from what he was doing to look at me.

"Um… I think it's alright." I murmured, looking at my reflection. The denim, "jeans" as the shopkeeper had called them, clung to my legs in an odd way that I'd never really felt before. Then, I was wearing a clingy, light blue, tank top, which made me feel uncomfortable and exposed. "I am showing a little too much skin though… What do you think?" I turned to look at him.

He was just staring at the tank top, with a sort of awestruck expression.

"What?" I glanced down, expecting to see a stain or something, but only seeing my generous chest, "What're you… Hey!" I squealed, grabbing my arms to cover up more. "I knew this was a bad idea!"

His eyes traveled to my face, he had a stupid grin on his, "Sorry, I just didn't notice with the dress."

"Pig." I spat, riffling through the bag on the floor, looking for one of my other shirts, "Didn't I buy anything… less revealing?"

"Not that I saw."

"Great, just great. My shirt is completely pointless, I might as well not be wearing one, and these shoes hurt my feet." I gestured to the sneakers that we'd managed to cram my feet into. After a life of heels, my feet didn't take well to walking flat. I walked over to the bed and dropped down, bowing my head and letting my hair fall down into my face.

"Oh come on, you'll get used to the shoes, and the shirt isn't that bad. There just aren't many girls in this town, and I was just caught off-guard."

I put my hands on my face; "My mother would roll over in her grave if she saw me like this."

He was silent for a moment, then, "She would understand that you had to."

I heard him moving around, but I didn't bother to look up. Next thing I knew, he was behind me, tugging on my hair. "What are you doing?" I mumbled into my palms.

"You'll thank me for this later." He tied my hair up with a ribbon at the back of my head.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, surprised to find that I couldn't say that I looked bad. In all honesty, I looked pretty good, it was just all the exposure that I wasn't used to. "I suppose it's not so bad." I muttered darkly.

He grinned.

"But it's still pretty bad." I snapped. Actually, I'd never seen my long, red hair pulled up before, it'd always been allowed to bounce around my face. "My hair looks… Different." I murmured, smoothing it. "Huh."

He shook his head, "Come on, we need to get moving here pretty soon.


End file.
